


Nothing Like Wet Plaid

by Callisto



Series: Missing Moments [5]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e06 Death Notice, Gen, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-24
Updated: 2011-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-21 17:24:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callisto/pseuds/Callisto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Hutch continued to slosh and spoke with considerable effort. "How come," he paused, trying to negotiate a rather large stone he seemed to be balanced on, "I'm down here and you're up there?" </i></p><p><i>"Your turn." </i></p><p><i>"What?" Hutch had hold of Posey, but was having a little trouble getting the handcuffs on him. </i></p><p><i>Starsky raised his voice, "I said, 'your turn'! I went in last night, remember?"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Like Wet Plaid

"Gotta match?" Starsky grinned down, having narrowly avoided being smacked in the head by a bag of wet money.

"Hey!" He started squeezing. "Wanna dry this out and go to Vegas?"

Hutch waved him off and started sloshing his way over to Posey, who was winged but obviously okay if the scowl he was sending Hutch's way was anything to go by. The welcome wail of back-up sounded in the distance. Squinting up, Hutch saw his partner watching him from the bridge, forearms resting over the wooden rail.

"Starsk?"

"Yeah?"

Hutch continued to slosh and spoke with considerable effort. "How come," he paused, trying to negotiate a rather large stone he seemed to be balanced on, "I'm down here and you're up there?"

"Your turn."

"What?" Hutch had hold of Posey, but was having a little trouble getting the handcuffs on him.

Starsky raised his voice, "I said, 'your turn'! I went in last night, remember?"

Hutch certainly did. It had taken three driers to get the swiming pool out of Starsky's clothes; not to mention the three candy bars and two hot chocolates Hutch had needed to get it out of Starsky. A wet Starsky was a whiney one, and it had not been a happy experience for either man.

"Right."

"What?"

Hutch raised his head and voice from behind the rock Posey was now slumped on. "I said--"

The ridiculousness of the conversation struck him.

"You done daydreaming up there? Wanna give me a hand?"

Hutch had finally managed to cuff a still scowling Posey, but realized he was going to have trouble negotiating himself out of the thigh-deep water he was in. On the bridge, Starsky seemed to mull it over before assuming a long-suffering air and moving down the path towards his partner.

"I ain't gettin' wet again, Hutch." There was a definite note of warning in his tone.

"Heaven forbid," muttered his partner.

"What?"

"Nothing! Just get down here, will you?" Hutch had had just about enough of repeating himself in soaking wet clothes. As if to punctuate the sentiment, a sneeze suddenly rent the air.

"Gesundheit," said a smiling Starsky as he arrived at the water's edge. Hutch glowered in reply and thrust his right hand out, clearly meaning for his partner to grab it and help him out.

Starsky hesitated, "Uh--"

"What now?"

"You're not thinking of...y'know... pulling me in there, or nothin'?" He laughed, nervously.

Hutch returned the laugh in kind. "Well, I wasn't..." He let the remark hang for a second, when another sneeze cut him off.

"Gesun..." Starsky tapered off at the malevolent look sent his way.

Controlling his temper -- he still needed to get out -- Hutch turned his hand palm up and simply raised his eyebrows, not trusting himself to speak right then. Realizing there was no choice but to trust that his partner's cruel streak had not surfaced (he really did hate getting his clothes wet), Starsky gingerly stepped forward and grasped Hutch’s hand.

Hutch's cords and plaid shirt had done a great job of absorbing as much of the pool as possible, so for one precarious moment they both teetered dangerously. Reading the fleeting panic in Starsky's eyes, Hutch was beyond grateful when eyes, Starsky dug his heels in enough to finally shift Hutch's centre of gravity. He stepped smartly out of the way as Hutch landed heavily on dry land.

"You're welcome," Starsky grinned from a distance of a couple of metres away.

Rubbing his face, Hutch gave a disgusted shake of his head and slapped his hands wetly against his sides. He glanced across at his partner, who was dancing a little from foot to foot about two metres to his left, and shook his head again. Starsky was such a baby about getting wet.

At that moment, the paramedics finally made it down the hill to take charge of Posey. Casting a rather envious glance at the dry gurney being used to push their wounded prisoner up the path, Hutch turned to move off -- one heavy, wet foot after another.

"Forgetting something, aren't we?"

"What?" Starsky was looking at the ground and clearly concentrating on keeping a good two strides behind his partner.

"Delano." Hutch stopped. Starsky did too. Hutch gave him a scathing look.

"What? So I don't wanna get wet. Know how long it took me to get this jacket dry?" Hutch turned, said nothing and started moving forward again. The sooner he got dry the better, he could feel the mother of all headaches starting to build.

A moment of silence passed before Starsky took up the conversation again. "Uniforms took him."

A grunt was all Hutch could be bothered to get out. The squelching of his feet was becoming hypnotic. If Starsky would just shut up, this would go so much better..

But no, Starsky clearly figured -- wrongly -- that if he kept up a soothing patter, he could head off Hutch's annoyance. Starsky continued. "Put some newspaper in the car, get you home and dried out for the party--"

That got through. "What party?"

The answer was a yelp as Starsky, not realizing Hutch had halted, promptly walked into him.

"Hutch!" He flinched away, rubbing his damp face.

"What party, Starsky?" Hutch felt his nerves wind tighter as his voice dropped.

Starsky was trying to be encouraging. "Nothin' heavy," he held up his hands in a placating gesture, "Anton offered to cook us his thanks, and it seemed like a fun idea to call Manny and the girls round." He held his breath. "What do you think?"

Hutch sighed, turned and resumed his steady trudge into the parking lot. He should've guessed Starsky would not let a group of dancers get away without being allowed to express their gratitiude. For a moment he was tempted, it did sound like fun. Another sneeze made his decision for him.

"Go ahead, Starsk. Tell me all about it tomorrow." All he was really longing for was a scalding shower and then some very, very dry clothes.

"Um...can't really do that, Hutch."

Something in the tentative tone tripped Hutch's partner-radar. Starsky was afraid to tell him something.

"And why is that?" Hutch turned sharply, catching his partner unawares. Definitely a guilty start.

Starsky cleared his throat. "Well, you know how small my place is, and how you don't really have neighbours, what with it being a cottage'n'all..." He swallowed and tried a smile.

The penny dropped.

Hutch took a step closer to Starsky, who as if in a tango, took one away.

"Starsk, are you trying to tell me that the party is at _my_ place?" Another tango step. "That you organized all this without so much as a word to the guy who apparently is hosting the damn thing?" The crescendo was spectacularly punctuated by another sneeze.

Starsky opened his mouth.

"I swear, if the word 'gesundheit' leaves your lips..." Hutch let the threat hang there as his finger rose menacingly.

Starsky wisely closed his mouth.

The silence stretched out as they faced each other in the parking lot. Nothing moved except a large drop, down and off Hutch's nose. Starsky cracked first as Hutch had known he would.

"So... what do you think? Ready to dry out and have some fun?" He backed up a little more until his heel hit one of the Torino's back tyres. "What say we get ourselves in the nice warm car here, huh?"

A hand shot out and caught his left wrist. Hutch was smiling. Starsky blinked.

"I think, Starsk, that I never really thanked you for pulling me out back there."

Starsky's smile was strained. The poor sap really had no idea what Hutch was planning.

"’S okay, what're friends for, right?"

Hutch's own smile grew, just as his grip tightened. "No, Starsk, I was thinking that what you really deserve for everything you've done for me today... I mean, the least I can do for you, buddy," he raised his free hand, then leaned in and whispered, "is give you a hug."

"Wha'?"

Too late. Starsky barely had time to close his eyes, before Hutch stepped in and engulfed him in a solid wall of soaking wet plaid.

Hutch squeezed tight and loved how his headache just faded away.

******


End file.
